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THE  NORTH  CAROL 


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AUGUST    15,    I905.  ^,   ^^U^O  &+X*0 


NOTE. 

'T'HE  PHOTO-GELATIN  PRINT  OF  MR.  BONER  WHICH 
APPEARS  AS  THE  FRONTISPIECE  OF  THIS  PAMPHLET 
TOGETHER  WITH  THE  HALF  TONE  ILLUSTRATIONS  WERE 
MADE  THROUGH  THE  COURTESY  OF  THE  J.  MANZ  EN- 
GRAVING Company  of  Chicago. 


N«*th° 


A  MEMORIAL 


OF 


JOHN  HENRY  BONER 


COMPILED  AND 
EDITED    BY    .    . 


MARCUS   BENJAMIN 


WASHINGTON 
1905 


John  Henry  Boner 

By  Marcus  Benjamin,  Ph.  D. 


After  a  life  full  of  hardship  and  suffering,  John  Henry 
Boner  died  in  the  city  of  Washington  on  March  6,  1903. 

In  the  hope  of  preserving  the  memory  of  a  dear  friend 
and  associate  in  literary  work  the  present  writer  gladly 
■undertook  the  preparation  of  a  short  sketch  of  his  career 
in  which  the  story  of  his  life  should  be  told  so  far  as 
possible  in  his  own  words. 

The  study  of  his  poems  revealed  more  and  more  the 
great  love  that  he  bore  for  his  native  town  and  for 
the  Old  North  State,  and  therefore,  on  the  completion  of 
the  sketch,  the  "South  Atlantic  Quarterly'"  was  chosen  as 
the  best  medium  for  its  publication,  and  to  the  editor  of 
that  periodical,  Professor  John  Spencer  Bassett,  I  am 
indebted  for  permission  to  here  reproduce  the  article  in 
its  entirety. 


EARLY  last  autumn,  while  spending  a  few  days  in 
Richmond,  I  visited  the  beautiful  cemetery  of 
Hollywood  and  there,  with  uncovered  head,  paid 
silent  homage  to  the  dust  of  those  brave  heroes  of  the 
Lost  Cause  whose  memory  is  preserved  by  that  rude 
pyramid  of  stones  which  loving  hearts  and  strong  hands 
have  combined  to  rear  to  the  glory  of  the  military  achieve- 
ments of  the  Confederate  soldiers.  Continuing  on  my 
way  in  that  silent  city  of  the  dead,  I  saw  the  memorials 
of  many  who  bore  names  famous  in  the  history  of  the 
commonwealth  and  the  nation,  and  then  at  the  extreme 


end  of  the  enclosure  I  found  the  place  where  President 
Davis  was  laid  away.  On  the  banks  of  the  James,  over- 
looking the  city  he  loved  so  well,  and  surrounded  by 
those  who  were  dear  to  him  in  life,  rests  the  great  leader 
of  the  Confederacy.  Thus  are  the  worthy  sons  of  Vir- 
ginia honored  by  their  descendants. 

A  few  weeks  later  I  visited  Raleigh,  and  there,  while 
basking  in  the  sunshine  in  the  little  square  that  surrounds 
the  statehouse,  my  mind  wandered  back  to  a  bleak  and 
dreary  March  day,  earlier  in  the  year,  when  the  remains 
of  John  Henry  Boner — North  Carolina's  first  man  of 
letters — were  consigned  to  an  unmarked  grave  in  an  ob- 
scure cemetery  in  Washington.  Like  Poe — unappre- 
ciated and  neglected  in  life  by  his  own — he  awaits  the 
resurrection  into  fame  that  will  come  as  surely  as  it  did 
to  that  greatest  of  all  American  writers.  In  the  hope 
that  it  may  come  soon  the  following  lines  are  written. 

In  the  old  historic  town  of  Salem,  North  Carolina, 
Boner  was  born  in  1845.  A  picture  of  the  actual  house 
in  which  he  first  saw  the  light  of  day  is  given  in  the 
volume  of  his  poems  published  after  his  death,  and  in 
that  building  his  first  poem  was  written.  Under  the  title 
of  "Broken  and  Desolate"  he  describes  "the  old  home 
where  my  youth  was  spent."  In  after  years  he  found 
it  "all  sadly  altered"  and  "all  changed,"  so  that  he 
writes : 

.     .     .     .     I  pressed  my  face 
Against  the  silent  wall,  then  stole 
Away  in  agony  of  soul, 
Regretting  I  had  seen  the  place. 

Of  his  boyhood  days  the  bare  fact  that  he  received  an 
"academic  education"  is  all  that  he  told  of  that  period 
of  his  existence,  for  now  that  he  has  wne  from  us  comes 


the  realization  that  he  never  said  much  about  himself. 

Amonjj  his  poems  is  "A  Memory  of  Boyhood"  in  which 

he  describes  how — 

Floating  on  the  gentle  Yadkin  in  an  olden-time  canoe, 

Singing  old  plantation  ballads — I  and  charming  blue-eyed  Sue — 
Blue-eyed,  golden  tressed  Sue. 

Other  stanzas  tell  of  the  "ripe,  delicious  muscadines," 
"sweetest  grapes  that  ever  clustered."  Hut  grapes  were 
not  all  he  gathered,  for  he  writes:  "sweeter  lips  were 
never  pressed,"  and  closes  with 

Years  may  pass,  but  I  can  never  cease  to  dream  of  blue-eyed  Sue 
And  the  morning  on  the  Yadkin  in  the  olden-time  canoe — 
Blue-eyed,  golden  tressed  Sue. 


As  he  grew  into  man- 
hood he  learned  the  print- 
er's trade  and  in  time  was 
graduated  from  the  com- 
posing room  into  the  edi- 
torial sanctum,  being  con- 
nected with  journals  both 
in  Salem  and  in  Asheville. 
During  the  reconstruction 
period  he  seems  to  have 
affiliated  with  the  Republi- 
can party,  for  which  indis- 
cretion he  was  to  pay  se- 
verely, but  in  extenuation 
of  that  course  it  may  be 
said  that  he  followed  the  example  of  many  worthy 
North  Carolinians,  among  whom  was  Robert  M.  Douglas, 
who  for  many  years  held  important  judicial  appointments 
in  North  Carolina,  culminating  in  his  election,  in  1899,  as 


JOHN   HENRY  BONER 

IN  EARLY  MANHOOD. 


a  justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  that  State.  Boner 
served  as  reading  clerk  of  the  North  Carolina  Constitu- 
tional Convention  in  1868  and  was  chief  clerk  of  the 
North  Carolina  House  of  Representatives  in  1869-70. 

But  there  were  also  other  interests,  and  he  tells  how, 
on  a  still  autumn  day, 

We  walked  among  the  whispering  pines. 

There  it  was  his  misfortune 

To  watch  those  fatal  roses  bloom 

Upon  her  cheeks — red,  cruel  signs — 
But  all  of  love,  not  of  the  tomb, 

We  spoke  among  the  whispering  pines. 

It  was  while  in  Raleigh  he  learned  to  love  her 

.     .     .     .     Unto  whom  I  cleave 
Loyally  and  do  believe 
Noblest  type  of  womanhood. 

And  perhaps  it  was  there  that  he  wrote : 

Ah  what  a  perfect  night  is  this 
For  sauntering  slowly  hand  in  hand — 
Under  moon -silvered  leaves  to  stand 

And  touch  lips  brimming  with  a  kiss, 

While  the  warm  night  air,  rich  and  scent 

Of  white  magnolia  and  red  rose, 

Languidly  sweetens  as  it  blows 
Through  the  low  limbs  above  you  bent. 

His  political  experience  seems  to  have  been  his  undo- 
ing at  home,  for  he  soon  left  his  native  State  and  entered 
the  civil  service  in  Washington,  where,  until  1886,  he 
served  in  the  Printing  Office,  at  first  as  a  compositor  and 
then  as  a  proof  reader.  That  he  was  appreciated  by  his 
associates  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  in  1878  he  was  presi- 
dent of   Columbia  Typographical   Union,    No.    10 1,   in 

6 


which  office  "he  showed  executive  ability  and  a  thorough 

knowledge  of  parliamentary  practice,   and   he  gave  the 
I   nion  a  conservative  and  safe  administration." 

It  was  during  these  years  that  tame  as  a  poet  came  t<> 
gladden  his  life.  His  verses  of  that  period  were  of  his 
own  Southland. 

So  one  who  leaves  his  boyhood's  home, 
About  the  wretched  world  to  roam, 
Led  off  by  visions  born  of  hope 
Inspired  by  youth's  kaleidoscope, 
Will  often  turn — his  visions  fled, 
His  hopes  like  storm-beat  blossoms  dead — 
Toward  that  place  of  all  the  blest, 
Old  home,  the  haven  of  sweet  rest. 

Soon  after  the  return  of  the  Democratic  party  to  power 
Mr.  Boner,  at  the  instigation  of  those  who  were  not  will- 
ing to  forget  his  political  affiliations  in  his  native  State, 
was  discharged  from  the  Government  service  on  the 
ground  of  offensive  partisanship. 

Meanwhile,  in  1883,  his  first  book  of  poems,  entitled 
"Whispering  Pines,"  was  published  in  Washington,  and 
the  beauty  of  many  of  his  verses  gained  for  him  recogni- 
tion and  appreciation  from  the  literary  men  of  the  North, 
chief  among  whom  was  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman,  who 
has  ever  extended  a  friendly  hand  to  younger  and  worthy 
authors,  and  with  whom  he  had  formed  a  pleasant  ac- 
quaintance through  correspondence.  In  his  "Poets  of 
America,"  published  in  1885,  Stedman  specially  mentions 
Boner  in  writing  of  Southern  poets,  and  in  describing 
their  work  he  says,  "that  they  open  vistas  of  the  life  and 
spirit  of  the  region."  Of  no  one  is  this  truer  than  of 
Boner. 

Learning  of  his  having  been  removed  from  office,  Mr. 


Stedman  invited  Boner  to  New  York  City,  and  soon  se- 
cured congenial  employment  for  him  as  one  of  the  staff 
on  the  Century  Dictionary,  then  in  course  of  preparation. 
For  a  time  he  aided  Mr.  Stedman  in  his  great  Library  of 
American  Literature,  and  of  that  service  it  is  recorded, 
"for  the  accuracy  of  the  text  we  are  greatly  indebted  to 
the  friendship  and  professional  skill  of  Mr.  John  H. 
Boner,  of  the  Century  Dictionary  staff,  who  has  given 
much  of  his  spare  time  to  the  correcting  of  our  page- 
proofs,  and  in  other  ways  has  been  of  service  to  the 
work." 

With  the  change  of  scene  came  new  inspirations  and 
he  wrote  a  series  of  City  Sonnets,  among  which  is  his 
11  Broadway  at  Noon."  That  great  thoroughfare  he  calls 
the  "Niagara  of  Streets,"  and  says: 

Not  the  roar 

Of  ocean  on  her  wildest  crags  could  drown 
The  tumult  of  this  torrent ;  and  the  prey 

Of  tempests,  were  they  cast  upon  the  shore 

From  places  where  the  wild  waves  drew  them  down 
Could  show  no  stranger  wrecks  than  this  Broadway. 

Also  of  this  period  is  his  "Our  American  God,  Hustle," 
which  opens  with 

All  things  that  follow  Nature's  course  take  time, 

and  then 

The  crime 

Of  haste  is  man's,  who,  trampling  on  law,  pleads 
God's  ignorance  of  what  the  future  needs. 

His  best  known  poem  is  "Poe's  Cottage  at  Ford- 
ham,"  which  appeared  in  the  Century  Magazine  in  No- 
vember, 1889.     I  quote  the  last  stanza: 

8 


Here  through  tins  lowly  portal, 

Made  sacred  by  his  name, 
Unheralded  immortal 

The  mortal  went  and  came. 
And  fate  that  then  denied  him, 
And  envy  that  decried  him, 
And  malice  that  belied  him, 

Have  cenotaphed  his  fame. 

His  standing  as  a  man  of  letters  received  further  rec- 
ognition by  his  election  in,  1S88,  to  membership  in  the 
Authors  Club  in  New  York.  An  honor  well  deserved 
and  gladly  conferred  upon  him. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  recall  that  about  this  time  Poe's 
cottage  was  offered  for  sale  and  Boner  enthusiastically 
discussed  with  the  present  writer  the  desirability  of  organ- 
izing a  Poe  association  which  should  have  as  its  principal 
object  the  purchase  and  preservation  of  that  historic 
home,  but  after  careful  deliberation  it  was  decided  that  the 
project  was  not  feasible  and  it  was  abandoned. 

For  a  time  he  served  as  literary  editor  of  the  New 
York  World,  and  of  that  experience  I  recall  a  single 
incident.  Pope  Leo  was  seriously  ill  and  an  obituary 
notice  was  needed  at  once.  Boner  was  assigned  to  the 
task  and  it  was  well  on  in  the  morning  before  he  finished 
it,  but  it  was  never  used.  Boner  himself  was  sleeping 
in  his  grave  a  year  or  more  before  the  final  summons 
came  to  the  venerable  pontiff. 

During  the  years  1892-94  he  was  connected  with  the 
editorial  staff  of  the  Standard  Dictionary.  His  experi- 
ence and  excellent  judgment  made  him  a  valuable  addi- 
tion to  that  force  of  literary  men.  His  desk,  for  a  portion 
of  the  time,  was  adjacent  to  my  own,  and  the  friendship 
that  ensued  continued  till  his  death.  It  was  at  this  period 
that  he  built  the  home  on  Staten  Island  to  which  he  gave 


the  name  of  Cricket  Lodge,  and  he  described  it  as 

but  a  lodge  indeed — 

Two  end -gables,  one  end  freed 
From  rigidity  by  sweep 
Of  a  dormer-windowed  deep 
Rooftree — such  where  pigeons  preen — 
And  the  shingles  stained  moss-green. 

In  this  home,  his  own, 

On  a  green  and  breezy  hill 
Overlooking  Arthur  Kill 
And  the  Orange  Mountains  blue 
In  their  everchanging  hue — 

he  had  hoped  to  pass 

.     .     .     .     life's  declining  years 
Happier  than  the  past  has  been. 

As  his  work  on  the  Standard  Dictionary  approached 
completion,  its  publishers,  recognizing  his  editorial  ability, 
placed  him  in  control  of  their  well  known  publication,  The 
Literary  Digest,  over  whose  columns  he  continued  in 
charge  until  1897.  The  improved  character  of  that 
journal,  due  to  his  critical  judgment  and  excellent  taste, 
soon  became  apparent,  and  has  since  been  maintained. 
In  addition  to  his  regular  duties,  he  prepared  a  valuable 
series  of  brief  summaries  of  American  contemporary 
poetry  that  attracted  much  notice. 

Conspicuous  among  Boner's  traits  of  character  was 
that  of  dogged  persistence.  He  would  not  give  in — he 
could  not — and  so,  on  a  matter  of  no  great  importance, 
he  declined  to  agree  with  his  publishers,  and  rather  than 
yield,  he  resigned  from  his  editorship. 

Then  came  dark  days,  and  soon 

The  wolf  came  sniffing  at  my  door, 
But  the  wolf  had  prowled  on  my  track  before, 
And  his  sniff,  sniff,  sniff  at  my  lodge  door-sill 
Only  made  me  laugh  at  his  devilish  will. 


Desultory  literary  work  is  not  very  remunerative,  and 

while  his  poems  found  ready  acceptance  with  the  C  \ntury 
Magazine,  and  he  contributed  certain  articles  to  such 
high-class  publications  as  "Appleton's  Annual  Cyclo- 
pedia,"  still  it  was  not  long  before — 

And  the  time  came  when  I  laughed  no  more, 
But  glanced  with  fear  at  my  frail  lodge  door, 
For  now  I  knew  that  the  wolf  at  bay 
Sooner  or  later  would  have  his  way. 

But  his  cup  was  not  yet  full.  Cricket  Lodge — his  only 
home — had  to  be  given  up.  Sickness  followed,  and  then. 
with  nothing  but  his  pride  left,  there  came 

A  crash,  and  my  door  flew  open  wide. 
My  strength  was  not  as  the  beast's  at  my  side. 
That  night  on  my  hearthstone  cold  and  bare 
He  licked  his  paw  and  made  his  lair. 

At  last,  broken  in  spirit  and  in  health,  he  appealed  to 
friends  in  Washington,  asking  that  a  place  be  found  for 
him.  A  decision  of  the  Civil  Service  Commission,  to  the 
effect  that  removal  from  Government  employ  on  the 
ground  of  "offensive  partisanship"  prior  to  entrance  in 
the  service  was  invalid,  fortunately  made  it  possible  to 
restore  him  to  his  place  as  proof  reader  in  the  Govern- 
ment Printing  Office.  His  literary  associates  in  New 
York— members  of  the  Authors  Club — were  successful 
in  enlisting  the  powerful  aid  of  Senator  Depew,  and,  in 
the  springtime  of  1900,  he  was  welcomed  back  to  his 
desk  by  many  of  his  old  colleagues. 

It  soon  became  apparent  that  his  strength  was  not 
even  equal  to  the  light  work  required  of  him  and  he 
began  to  fail  more  rapidly.  The  winter  proved  a  severe 
one  for  him,  and  it  was  evident  that  a  complete  rest  was 
essential    for   the   restoration    of   his   health.     A   small 


pamphlet,  entitled  "Some  New  Poems,"  selected  from 
writings  published  chiefly  in  the  Ce?itury  Magazine,  sub- 
sequent to  his  "Whispering  Pines"  and  most  kindly 
dedicated  to  the  present  writer  ( "whose  loyal  friendship 
has  been  a  solace  and  a  help  to  me  in  dark  days"),  fur- 
nished the  slender  purse  required  for  a  few  months  visit 
to  North  Carolina. 

In  May  he  wrote  from  the  hospital  where  he  had  gone 
for  recuperation:  "Am  going  South  next  week,  if  pos- 
sible. In  bad  shape.  Doctor  says  consumption."  A 
few  days  and  he  was  able  again  to  hear  "the  notes  of 
the  Southern  mocking  bird." 

.     .     .     .     But  you  must  live  in  the  South, 
Where  the  clear  moon  kisses  with  large  cool  mouth 
The  land  she  loves,  in  the  secret  of  night, 
To  hear  such  music — the  soul-delight 
Of  the  Moon -Loved  Land. 

For  a  little  more  than  six  months  he  was  happy  in 
being 

Back  in  the  Old  North  State, 

Back  to  the  place  of  his  birth, 
Back  through  the  pines'  colonnaded  gate 

To  the  dearest  spot  on  earth. 
No  sweeter  joy  can  a  star  feel 

When  into  the  sky  it  thrills 
Than  the  rapture  that  wings  a  Tar  Heel 

Come  back  to  his  native  hills. 

In  the  exuberance  of  his  joy  at  being  among  his  "loved 
ones  in  mothernook,"  he  wrote  "The  Wanderer  Back 
Home,"  of  which  the  foregoing  is  the  initial  stanza.  It 
was  published  in  the  Charlotte,  North  Carolina,  Observer, 
of  December  15,  1901,  and  only  a  few  days  before  he 
sent  the  following  message  to  his  comrades  in  Washing- 
ton: "I  am  in  bed  again  and  am  mortally  sick.    Have  a 


new  doctor  who  tries  to  jolly  me  along."  This  message 
came  from  Raleigh,  where  much  of  his  time  was  spent, 
and  of  which  place  he  wrote  facetiously  years  before:  "I 
feel  quite  at  home  in  New  York.  It  reminds  me  so 
much  of  Raleigh."  His  visit  was  nearing  its  end,  and 
to  his  friends  he  spoke  of  "how  he  loved  Raleigh  and  its 
people  and  hoped  to  spend  his  last  days  there,"  "but 
not  thus  the  stern  fates  would." 

In  January  he  returned  to  Washington  and  tersely  an- 
nounced his  arrival  with  "  'And  the  cat  came  back!'  I 
go  to  work  tomorrow." 

For  a  little  while  he  was  able  to  continue  at  his  desk, 
but  it  soon  became  apparent  that  for  him 

Night  is  falling — gently  falling,  and  the  silver  stars  are  shining. 

With  pain  that  was  severe  and  with  suffering  that  was 
cruel  he  struggled  against  the  inevitable  through  the 
year  with  a  courage  as  noble  as  that  shown  by  those 
immortal  comrades  who  fought  through  the  Wilderness 
with  Lee.  And  then  in  March,  1903,  the  end  came  and 
he  realized 

The  bliss  of  that  Eternal  Rest 
Emancipated  souls  must  know. 

For  he  found 

Reunion  with  the  loved  and  lost, 

Revealment  of  the  Almighty  cause, 
The  Unknowable  made  plain — the  cost 

Of  knowledge  fixed  by  wondrous  laws. 

Let  me  add  one  more  stanza, 

Howe'er  it  be,  one  thing  I  know : 

There  is  a  faith  which  hath  sufficed 
Men  mourning  in  the  land  of  woe — 

A  simple  faith  in  Jesus  Christ. 

'3 


Among  his  earlier  poems — doubtlessly  written  before 
he  left  North  Carolina — I  find  the  following  words : 

Where  shall  my  grave  be — will  a  stone 

Be  raised  to  mark  awhile  the  spot, 

Or  will  rude  strangers,  caring  not, 
Bury  a  man  to  them  unknown  ? 


His  associates  and  friends  bore  him  to  a  lonely  grave — 
as  yet  unmarked — and  there,  far  from  home  and  from 
those  he  loved,  he  rests.  In  one  of  his  sweetest  poems 
he  tells  how 


and  then 


The  bells  are  ringing — Sabbath  bells, 

I  hear 

The  old  Moravian  bell  ring  clear, 
But  see  no  more — tears  fill  my  eyes. 


And  then  the  wish- 


Where'er  it  he  my  fate  to  die, 

Beneath  those  trees  in  whose  dark  sh.ult 
The  first  loved  of  my  life  are  laid 

1  want  to  lie. 


And  what  of  the  man?  I  have  tried  to  tell,  in  his  own 
words,  so  far  as  possible,  the  story  of  the  life  of  my 
friend  Boner,  and  my  effort  will  not  have  been  in  vain  if, 
perchance,  my  poor  endeavor  finds  favor  anions  the  men 
and  women  of  the  Old  North  State  he  loved  so  loyally, 
and  of  whose  beauties  he  sung-  so  sweetly,  and  it  may 
be — I  pray  that  it  may  be  so — that  they  may  bring  him 
home  at  last  to  rest  in  the  little  Moravian  graveyard  in 
Salem. 


/TVHIS  article  was  published  in  the  April  issue  of  the 
A  Quarterly,  and  separates  of  it  were  sent  quite  gen- 
erally to  Mr.  Boner's  friends  in  New  York  and  Wash- 
ington. In  its  issue  of  Sunday,  May  29,  1904,  the  Morning 
Post  of  Raleigh  reprinted  the  entire  sketch.  Mr.  Henry 
Abbey,  Mr.  Richard  Watson  Gilder,  Mr.  Edmund 
Clarence  Stedman,  and  other  close  friends  of  Mr.  Boner, 
acknowledged  the  receipt  of  the  pamphlet  with  pleasant 
words  of  appreciation.  Mr.  Stedman  was,  as  usual, 
most  sympathetic,  and  wrote : 

le+Ji  vGZsTfa  y^^y^oet  «Oo«OJ >*, 

Ah,  IM  .  &U,  fy~"*  tourO*  *  A* 

0^  It?  jtovu  . 

16 


It  was  most  fortunate  that  Mr.  Stedman's  desire  to 
honor  the  memory  of  his  former  associate  should  almost 
at  its  inception  have  found  an  equally  appreciative  desire 
on  the  part  of  Doctor  William  J.  Holland  of  Pittsburg, 
Pennsylvania,  to  perpetuate  the  fame  of  Mr.  Boner.  This 
distinguished  scientist  was,  during  his  early  life,  a  resi- 
dent of  Salem,  and  in  June,  again  visited  the  old  town. 
He  aroused  renewed  interest  in  the  career  of  his  boyhood 
friend  which  was  of  the  utmost  service. 

During  a  part  of  the  summer,  Professor  Bassett  was 
in  Washington,  and  advantage  was  taken  of  his  presence 
to  call  a  meeting  of  some  of  Mr.  Boner's  friends  and 
associates  at  the  Cosmos  Club,  and  at  that  meeting  the 
John  Henry  Boner  Memorial  was  organized  with  the 
following  officers : 

President,  Marcus  Benjamin,  Editor,  U.  S.  National 
Museum ;  Vice-President,  Charles  W.  Otis,  Government 
Printing  Office ;  Secretary,  John  Spencer  Bassett,  Editor, 
Sout/i  Atlantic  Quarterly,  Durham,  North  Carolina ;  and 
Treasurer,  John  Franklin  Crowell,  Director  of  Intercon- 
tinental Correspondence  University,  Washington  City. 

It  was  deemed  advisable  to  secure  the  active  coopera- 
tion of  some  of  the  better  known  literary  men  as  well  as 
some  influential  citizens  of  Salem,  and,  accordingly, 
Doctor  Benjamin  was  authorized  to  ask  the  following 
gentlemen  to  accept  the  offices  designated : 

Honorary  President,  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman, 
author  of  "Poets  of  America".  Honorary  Vice-Presi- 
dents, William  Jacob  Holland,  Director  of  the  Carnegie 
Museum,  Pittsburg,  Pennsylvania  ;  Richard  Watson 
Gilder,  Editor  of  the  Century  Magaziiic,  New  York 
City;  Samuel  Conrad  Lemly,  Judge  Advocate,  U.  S. 
Navy ;    Edward    Rondthaler,    Bishop   of    the    Southern 

17 


Moravian  Province,  Salem,  North  Carolina;  John  William 
Fries,  President  of  the  People's  National  Bank,  Salem, 
North  Carolina ;  and  William  Allen  Blair,  President  of 
the  Wachovia  Historical  Society,  Salem,  North  Carolina. 

Each  of  these  gentlemen  very  graciously  accepted  the 
office  to  which  he  had  been  chosen  and  to  each  one  of 
them  sincere  appreciation  is  justly  due  for  his  consistent 
efforts  in  making  the  Memorial  a  success. 

A  circular  letter  was  drafted  and  it  received  the 
approval  of  Mr.  Stedman  and  Mr.  Gilder  early  in  No- 
vember and  then,  with  some  misgiving,  a  few  copies 
were  sent  out. 


CEDAR  AVENUE 

LEADING    FROM    THE    CHURCH    TO    THE    GRAVEYARD 
SALEM,    NORTH    CAROLINA 


The  circular  was  as  follows 


Tlpe 

Ijcljn  HmzQ  ^Bcncr 


jyrORTH  Carolina's  first  man  of  letters,  John  Henry  Boner,  died  in 
5AI  Washington  in  March,  1903,  and  was  buried  "  far  from  home  and 
far  from  those  he  loved  best,  in  a  lonely  grave— as  yet  unmarked  "  in 
the  Congressional  Cemetery.  A  year  later  there  appeared  in  the  South 
Atlantic  Quarterly,  published  in  North  Carolina,  an  appreciation  of  his 
career  from  which  the  following  quotation  is  taken : 
In  one  of  his  sweetest  poems  he  tells  how 


and  then — 


The  bells  are  ringing — Sabbath  bells, 


I  hear 

The  old  Moravian  bell  ring  clear, 
But  see  no  more — tears  fill  my  eyes, 

and  then  the  wish — 

Where'er  it  be  my  fate  to  die, 

Beneath  those  trees  in  whose  dark  shade 
The  first  loved  of  my  life  are  laid 

I  want  to  lie. 

A  number  of  letters  from  his  friends  urging  that  this  "wish"  so 
clearly  expressed  might  be  carried  out,  and  especially  one  from  Mr. 
Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  in  which  he  wrote  "Yes,  and  place  a 
fitting  tablet  over  his  grave  "  led  to  a  meeting  during  the  past  summer 
of  his  friends  and   associates   in  Washington  who   then   organized   a 

19 


(krLhhQ 


cnur 


[The  above  portrait  Is  from  Boner's  Lyrics"  and  appears 
through  the  courtesy  of  the  Neale  Publishing  Company  of 
Washington  and   New  York. I 


John  Henry  Boner  Memorial,  having  as  its  chief  object!  the  removal 
of  Mr.  Boner's  remains  to  the  Moravian  churchyard  in  Salem,  North 
Carolina,  and  the  placing  of  a  tablet  over  his  grave. 

The  active  officers  chosen  were  as  follows:  President,  Marcus 
Benjamin,  Editor,  U.  S.  National  Museum;  Vice-President,  Charles 
W.  Otis,  Government  Printing  Office  ;  Secretary,  John  Srencer  Bassett, 
Editor,  South  Atlantic  Quarterly,  Durham,  N.  C  ;  and  Treasurer,  John 
Franklin  Crowell,  Director  of  Intercontinental  Correspondence  Uni- 
versity, Washington,  D.  C.  Subsequently  the  following  gentlemen 
kindly  consented  to  serve  the  organization  in  an  honorary  capacity. 
Honorary  President,  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman,  author  of  "  Poets 
of  America."  Honorary  Vice-Presidents,  William  Jacor  Holland, 
Director  of  the  Carnegie  Museum;  Richard  Watson  Gilder,  Editor 
of  the  Century  Magazine ;  Samuel  Conrad  Lemley,  Judge  Advocate, 
U.  S.  Navy ;  Edward  Rondthaler,  Bishop  of  the  Moravian  Church  ; 
John  W.  Fries,  President  of  the  Arista  Mills  Company  ;  and  William 
A.  Blair,  Vice-President  of  the  People's  National  Bank. 

The  consent  for  the  removal  of  the  remains  of  Mr.  Boner  has  been 
obtained  from  his  widow  and  preliminary  arrangements  have  been  con- 
summated for  their  final  interment  in  the  Moravian  churchyard  in  Salem, 
North  Carolina.  It  is  of  interest  to  mention  that  the  burial  only  of 
members  of  the  Moravian  church  is  allowed  in  this  cemetery,  and  in 
accordance  with  the  time-honored  custom  of  that  church  no  monument 
other  than  a  simple  slab  of  prescribed  size  is  permitted.  The  authorities 
of  the  cemetery  in  a  recent  letter  say  that  Mr.  Boner's  remains  are  en- 
titled "  to  burial  in  the  graveyard  here  without  special  permit  and  with- 
out cost  except  for  grave  digging  and  the  usual  plain  head  stone." 

It  remains  simply  therefore  to  raise  the  modest  sum  of  money  required 
for  the  removal  of  the  body  from  Washington  to  Salem  and  their  rein- 
terment there  with  the  customary  headstone,  It  has  been  estimated 
that  not  more  than  $200  will  be  required  for  this  purpose,  and  the 
committee  appointed  has  the  honor  to  ask  the  favor  of  a  contribution 
from  you. 

All  checks  should  be  made  payable  to  Dr.  John  Franklin  Crowell, 
treasurer,  and  sent  in  the  enclosed  envelope. 


T>  Y  return  mail  the  money  began  to  come  in,  and  in 
amounts  more  generous  than  we  had  dared  to 
hope  for.  In  three  days  sufficient  funds  had  been  re- 
ceived to  insure  the  success  of  the  undertaking. 

Mr.  Otis  at  once  perfected  the  arrangements  by  which 
the  remains  of  Mr.  Boner  were  prepared  for  delivery  at 
the  railway  station  on  the  evening  of  December  10,  1904, 
and  through  the  courtesy  of  Colonel  A.  B.  Andrews, 
Vice-President  of  the  Southern  Railway  Company,  trans- 
portation was  obtained  as  far  as  Danville. 

The  subsequent  extracts  from  the  newspapers  of  North 
Carolina  describe  very  fully  the  culmination  of  the 
Memorial. 

Under  the  title  of  "Home  at  Last"  the  following 
article,  by  Mr.  W.  N.  Brockwell,  appeared  in  the  State 
Journal  of  Raleigh,  on  December  9 : 

One  of  North  Carolina's  brightest  men  and  sweetest 
singers  is  going  home  next  Saturday.  He  makes  the 
journey  to  the  Old  North  State  for  the  last  time. 
Life's  journey  for  him  was  over  some  time  ago,  for  he 
died  early  in  March,  1903.  I  refer  to  the  late  John 
Henry  Boner,  printer,  poet,  and  man  of  letters. 
Like  many  others  of  his  class,  he  died  poor  so  far  as 
this  world's  material  stores  are  concerned,  but  rich  in 
friends  who  loved  him  for  his  many  charming  qualities, 
and  it  is  through  the  bounty  of  these  friends  that  he 
is  "  going  home  "  at  last.  The  movement  to  take  his 
remains  back  to  his  old  home  really  started  on  the 
day  when  we  laid  him  to  rest  in  an  unmarked  grave 
in  the  Congressional  Cemetery. 

Mr.  Marcus  Benjamin,  of  the  National  Museum,  a 
life-time  and  dear  friend  of  the  dead  poet,  took  the 
matter  up,  and  as  a  result  the  Boner  Memorial  Asso- 
ciation was  formed. 

Another  most  faithful  worker  in  the  matter  was  Mr. 


Charles  W.  Otis,  a  former  co-laborer  and  warm  friend 
of  Mr.  Boner  in  the  Government  Printing  ( >ttiee. 

Among  the  contributors  to  the  fund  were  such  well- 
known  literary  lights  as  Edmund  Clarence  Stedm&n, 
Richard  Watson  Gilder,  and  Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich. 

The  remains,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Benjamin,  will 
leave  here  on  Saturday  night,  and  on  Sunday  after- 
noon, December  n,  a  service  will  be  held  in  the  Mo- 
ravian church  at  Salem — an  edifice  and  a  town  often 
mentioned  in  the  bright  word  painting  of  Mr.  Boner — 
and  then  the  physical  being  of  the  poet  will  go  to  its 
last  resting  place  in  the  old  Moravian  burying  ground, 
one  of  the  sweetest  and  simplest  homes  of  the  dead 
which  it  has  ever  been  my  good  fortune  to  look  upon. 
I  shall  not  go  into  the  details  of  Mr.  Boner's  life  in 
this  short  note,  for  that  will  doubtless  be  treated  in 
the  daily  press  of  the  State  when  he  arrives  "  at  home," 
but  will  say  that  I  knew  him  quite  well  as  a  man  and 
listened  to  his  songs  as  a  poet  with  charmed  attention. 
Both  the  knowledge  of  the  man  and  the  beauty  oi 
his  verse  have  been  helpful  to  me — have  made  me  a 
better  man  ;  and  that  is  the  noblest  aim  of  letters,  to 
make  the  individual  better  and  through  the  individual 
to  improve  the  world — the  great  mass  of  humanity. 
I  rejoice  that  this  son  of  song,  of  whom  North  Caro- 
linians may  well  be  proud,  is  going  back  to  "  the 
dearest  place  on  earth,"  as  he  once  described  his  old 
home ;  for  I  recall  these  beautiful  lines  from  one  of 
his  poems  as  tenderly  expressing  his  desire  to  rest  in 
the  bosom  of  his  native  sod  : 

Where'er  it  be  my  fate  to  die, 

Beneath  those  trees  in  whose  dark  shade 
The  first  loved  of  my  life  are  laid 

I  want  to  lie. 

Through  the  love  of  unchanging  friends  this  wish 
is  about  to  be  gratified. 


2.3 


THE  BIRTHPLACE  OF  JOHN   HENRY  BONER 

bALEM,    NORTH    CAROLINA 


[The  above  Illustration  Is  from  Boner's  Lyrics"  and  appears 
through  the  courtesy  of  the  Neale  Publishing  Company  of 
Washington  and  New  York.] 


24 


'  I  VHE  evening  of  Saturday,  December  10,  was  bitterly 

A     cold  in  Washington,  but  a  delegation  of  Mr.  Boner's 

associates  of  the  Government  Printing  ( Office,  led  by  his 

faithful  friend,  Mr.  Otis,  gathered  at  the  station  to  bid  a 
last  fairwell  to  the  remains  of  their  comrade,  which,  accom- 
panied by  Doctor  Benjamin,  the  chosen  representative 

of  the  Memorial,  left  for  the  South  by  a  belated  train  at 
nearly  midnight.  The  warm  sunshine  of  a  beautiful 
morning  came  as  a  Sunday  benison  and  the  journey  was 
soon  over.  At  the  station  in  Winston,  Mr.  Blair,  Mr. 
Fries,  and  other  members  of  the  Wachovia  Historical 
Society,  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen  of  the  two  cities,  the 
editors  of  the  two  daily  journals,  friends  of  the  deceased 
poet,  and  many  citizens  met  the  remains  and  its  attendant. 

The  memorial  services  took  place  in  the  afternoon  at 
3.30  o'clock,  and  of  them  full  and  appreciative  accounts 
were  published  in  The  Twin-City  Daily  Sentinel  of 
December  12,  and  in  The  Winston-Salem  Journal  of 
December  13,  as  well  as  shorter  notices  in  the  Raleigh 
Nezvs  and  Observer,  the  Charlotte  Daily  Observer,  and 
the  Durham  Sun. 

The  account  in  the  Sentinel  was  written  by  Rev.  John 
H.  Clewell,  and  is  as  follows: 

Laid  to  Rest  Under  the  Cedars. 


At  the  close  of  a  peaceful  Sabbath  day,  while  the 
evening  shadows  were  lengthening,  with  a  great  con- 
course of  sympathetic  friends  gathered  near,  and  with 
the  grave  lined  with  boughs  from  the  cedars  about 
which  he  wrote  so  lovingly,  the  sweet  singer  was  laid 
to  rest. 

John  Henry  Boner  died  in  Washington  City  in 
March,  1903.     He  was  buried  in  the  Congressional 


cemetery,  and  soon  after  his  death  friends  and  ad- 
mirers agitated  the  question  of  erecting  a  suitable 
monument  to  his  memory.  The  project  was  received 
with  favor  by  many  distinguished  literary  men,  among 
whom  were  Dr.  Marcus  Benjamin,  Dr.  William  J. 
Holland,  Mr.  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman.     An  asso- 


;Jjflte%' 

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It      'iB 

<v»&£l 

■Jf  *?  J^wSfeH^L,.;  J* 

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On 

11  /,..*».»■#*•■     ■■*!.       '   1F"J| 

MORAVIAN   CHURCH 

SALEM,   NORTH  CAROLINA 

ciation  was  formed  and  it  was  decided  to  remove  the 
remains  to  his  native  home,  the  place  he  loved  so  well, 
and  about  which  some  of  his  most  tender  verses  were 
written.  The  necessary  funds  were  readily  contrib- 
uted, and  all  arrangements  made  for  the  burial  in  the 
Moravian  graveyard  in  Salem. 

Dr.  Marcus  Benjamin,  editor  of  the  publications  of 
the  U.  S.  National  Museum,  a  warm  personal  friend, 

26 


was  requested  to  accompany  the  remains.  They  left 
Washington  City  Saturday  evening,  arriving  in 
Winston -Salem  on  Sunday  morning. 

Sunday  afternoon  the  old  bell  in  the  l>elfry  of  tin- 
Home  church  rang  out  its  invitation  to  the  many 
friends  to  gather  for  the  purpose  of  paying  a  last  sad 
tribute  to  the  departed. 

The  auditorium  was  fdled  to  its  utmost  capacity, 
ground  floor  and  galleries.  The  service  was  con- 
ducted by  Bishop  Rondthaler  and  on  either  side  sat 
Dr.  Benjamin  and  Mr.  W.  A.  Blair.  On  the  Upper 
platform  were  seated  Governor  Glenn,  together  with 
Reverends  Clewell,  Hall,  Pfohl,  Cocke,  Watts,  Lilly, 
Barnhardt,  and  Conrad.  In  the  audience  were  gath- 
ered a  number  of  the  relatives  of  the  deceased  and 
also  friends  from  other  sections  as  well  as  represen- 
tatives from  all  parts  of  our  city. 

A  brief  history  of  the  life  of  the  deceased  was  given 
by  Bishop  Rondthaler,  embodying  the  following  facts : 

John  Henry  Boner  was  born  in  Salem  in  1845.  He 
spent  his  early  years  in  his  native  town,  receiving  an 
academic  education.  He  grew  into  manhood  and 
learned  the  printers'  trade,  graduating  from  the  com- 
posing room  into  the  editorial  sanctum.  He  was  con- 
nected with  several  papers  in  Winston -Salem  and  in 
Asheville  and  was  also  associated  with  several  State 
offices  at  Raleigh.  Later  he  removed  to  Washington 
and  to  New  York,  and  in  these  two  cities  he  spent  the 
remainder  of  his  life.  He  held  offices  under  the  gov- 
ernment in  Washington,  and  in  New  York  was  con- 
nected with  the  publication  of  the  Library  of  Amer- 
ican Literature  and  the  Century  Dictionary.  In 
addition  to  the  two  volumes  of  poetery,  Whispering 
Pines  and  Boner's  Lyrics,  he  wrote  for  the  Century 
and  other  magazines. 

Bishop  Rondthaler  was  followed  by  Doctor  Benjamin 
who  spoke  as  follows: 


In  the  little  volumes  of  poems  entitled  Whispering 
Pines  there  will  be  found  these  words : 

With  half-shut  eyes  I  dimly  see 

A  picture  dear  as  life  to  me — 

The  place  where  I  was  born  appears — 

A  little  town  with  grassy  ways 

And  shady  streets,  where  life  hums  low, 
(A  place  where  world-worn  men  might  go 

To  calmly  close  their  fading  days). 

One  simple  spire  points  to  the  skies 
Above  the  leafy  trees.     I  hear 
The  old  Moravian  bell  ring  clear, 

But  see  no  more — tears  fill  my  eyes. 

The  poem  closes  with  the  pathetic  wish,  so  character- 
istic of  those  of  Southern  birth, 

But  by  God's  good  grace, 

Where'er  it  be  my  fate  to  die, 

Beneath  those  trees  in  whose  dark  shade 
The  first  loved  of  my  life  are  laid 

I  want  to  lie. 

It  is  in  consideration  of  this  wish,  so  clearly  ex- 
pressed, that,  on  behalf  of  the  many  friends  and 
admirers  of  John  Henry  Boner  I  have  the  very  great 
honor  of  transferring  to  your  custody  the  remains  of 
him  who  has  been  so  appropriately  described  as 
"  North  Carolina's  first  man  of  letters." 

This  action  has  been  made  possible  through  the  in- 
terest of  his  fellow-workers  in  literature  in  New  York 
and  Washington  and  a  single  admirer  from  Virginia 
who,  I  am  glad  to  add,  bears  the  illustrious  name  of 
Lee.  It  is  well,  I  think,  to  call  your  particular  atten- 
tion to  those  who  have  made  possible  the  home-coming 
of  this  hero  of  letters,  for  too  often  in  this  ever  busy 
world  of  ours  we  fail  to  appreciate  our  own,  and  only 
recognize  their  worth  when  strangers,  as  it  were,  make 
it  apparent. 

Let  me  specially  emphasize,  therefore,  the  recogni- 
tion accorded  to  John  Henry  Boner  by  his  fellow 
poets.     Edmund  Clarence  Stedman,  who  has  honored 

28 


this  Memorial  by  his  service  as  honorary  president, 
spoke  of  Boner  as  "that  gentlest  of  minstrels  who 
caught  his  music  from  the  whispering  pines."  Thomas 
Bailey  Aldrich,  who  shares  with  Mr.  Stedman  the 
highest  rank  among  living  American  poets,  has  borne 
pleasant  testimony  to  the  excellence  of  Boner's  verse  ; 
Richard  Watson  Gilder  lent  his  name  and  influence 
to  this  work  and  wrote,  "Blessed  be  those  who  do 
good  to  the  poets — living  or  dead";  and  Henry 
Abbey,  also  a.poet  and  a  friend  as  well,  wrote  :  "  It 
was  given  to  Boner  to  make  one  poem  of  great  ex- 
cellence, his  lines  on  '  Poe's  Cottage  at  Ford  ham  ; '  " 
John  Hay,  who  won  his  first  laurels  as  a  poet  long 
before  he  achieved  fame  as  the  foremost  diplomat  ol 
his  time;  Robert  Underwood  Johnson,  Clinton  Scol- 
lard,  and  John  Vance  Cheney,  sweet  singers  and 
able  writers,  and  S.  G.  W.  Benjamin,  known  for  his 
verse  and  clever  contributions  in  prose,  are  among 
those  who  have  made  this  Memorial  a  success. 

Among  the  more  distinctive  literary  men  from 
whom  contributions  have  been  received  are  Henry  M. 
Alden,  the  veteran  editor  of  Harper's  Magazine  ;  Dr. 
I.  K.  Funk,  the  editor  in  chief  of  the  Standard  Dic- 
tionary, and  John  D.  Champlin,  Arthur  E.  Bostwick, 
and  Frank  Huntington,  friends  and  associates  of 
Boner  on  that  great  work,  and  Henry  S.  Brooks  and 
John  Uri  Lloyd,  both  of  whom  are  well  known 
authors ;  President  D.  C.  Gilman,  long  of  the  Johns 
Hopkins  University,  and  Dr.  William  J.  Holland,  of 
the  Carnegie  Museum,  distinguished  as  educators  and 
men  of  of  affairs ;  Frank  W.  Hackett,  for  a  time  as- 
sistant secretary  of  the  Navy,  and  Theodore  L. 
DeVinne,  America's  foremost  printer,  are  included 
in  the  list. 

To  the  foregoing  should  also  be  added  the  names 
of  the  following  generous  contributors:  Franklin  H. 
Giddings,  eminent  authority  on  sociology  and  teacher  ; 
Francis  H.  Stoddard,  able  critic  and  university  pro- 
fessor ;  Stephen  H.  Thayer,  poet  and  essayist ;  Homer 

29 


Greene,  a  writer  of  pleasing  fiction ;  Charles  Henry 
Jones,  editor  and  author ;  George  Lansing  Raymond, 
teacher  of  aesthetics  and  writer  of  text  books ;  and 
Andrew  Carnegie,  author  of  "Triumphant  Democ- 
racy", and  philanthropist  into  two  continents. 

You  will  do  well,  it  seems  to  me,  to  cherish  the 
name  of  these  liberal  donors  who  have  so  graciously 
honored  the  memory  of  a  son  of  North  Carolina. 

Only  yesterday  while  reading  one  of  the  weekly 
literary  journals  I  found  the  following  encomiums  on 
Boner's  Lyrics:  Bliss  Carman  wrote,  "I  think  the 
sonnets  are  fine,  stirring,  manly,  and  superbly  exe- 
cuted " ;  Maurice  Thompson  is  quoted  as  saying, 
"Such  verse  is  an  embodied  charm,  a  joy  forever"; 
while  Mark  Twain  said,  "I  wish  I  could  put  into 
words  my  admiration  of  it  and  my  delight  in  it 
without  seeming  extravagance." 

I  have  yet  another  duty  to  perform.  His  associates 
in  the  government  printing  office  have  commissioned 
me  to  place  this  wreath  of  laurel  over  the  grave  of 
their  colleague.  All  honor  to  these  worthy  knights  of 
the  golden  rule,  for  in  life  they  did  to  him  as  they 
would  should  be  done  unto  them  and  in  death  they 
have  not  forgotten  him. 

And  now  for  the  man  himself:  John  Henry  Boner 
was  born  in  Salem  in  1845.  After  various  experiences 
he  went  to  New  York  early  in  the  eighties  of  the  last 
century  and  thereafter  devoted  himself  exclusively  to 
literary  work.  It  was  while  so  engaged  that  I  first  met 
him  and  for  a  time  we  occupied  adjacent  desks,  I 
found  him  always  an  honorable  gentleman,  somewhat 
reserved  and  rather  dignified,  slow  to  make  friends 
but  when  once  he  gave  his  friendship  it  was  for  all 
time.  It  it  not  for  me  to  laud  him  and  yet  his  very 
faults  were  even  virtues,  for  with  the  true  instincts  of 
a  gentleman,  honor  was  more  to  him  than  money  and 
he  accepted  poverty  rather  than  do  those  things  which 
were  contrary  to  his  own  conscience  and  we  loved  him 
for  it.     He  was  gentle  and  kind  and  tender  with 


women— not  weak  or  mawkish— but  with  that  innate 
reverence  that  all  true  men  have  for  their  wives, 
mothers,  and  sweethearts.  He  bore  pain  and  suffering 
with  Christian  fortitude,  and  his  last  days  were  full  of 
sorrow  and  yet  his  cheerful  optimism  continued  to  the 
last. 

When  the  end  came  rather  than  entail  trouble  on 
those  who  had  cared  for  him  he  simply  asked  to  be 
laid  away  where  it  could  be  done  with  the  least  incon- 
venience. He  died  in  Washington  City  in  March, 
1903. 

Tennyson  has  written  "For  a  poet  cannot  die," 
and  so  now  that  we  have  brought  him  back  to  you,  I 
beg  that  you  will  proudly  guard  the  remains  and  lov- 
ingly cherish  the  memory  of  him  who  was  ever  so 
loyal  to  his  people  and  to  his  state.  He  is  with  you 
once  more  and  in  his  own  words  I  leave  him  : 

Back  in  the  Old  North  State, 

Back  to  the  place  of  his  birth, 
Back  through  the  pines'  colonnaded  gate 

To  the  dearest  spot  on  earth. 


Governor  Glenn  followed  with  a  brief  but  very 
earnest  and  sympathetic  address.  He  paid  a  tender 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  the  departed,  claiming  that 
he  was  truly  a  great  man.  It  is  not  necessary  to  be  a 
great  military  leader  or  a  great  statesman  to  be  a  great 
man.  Whatever  the  calling,  a  man  is  great  if  he  is 
true  to  his  convictions  and  does  good  for  others.  The 
governor  continued  his  remarks  by  saying  he  did  not 
wonder  that  Boner  wished  to  be  brought  home  and  to 
be  buried  in  the  beautiful  Salem  graveyard.  "If 
there  is  one  thing  for  which  I  envy  the  Salem  Morav- 
ians it  is  their  graveyard,  in  which  Boner  is  about  to 
be  buried." 


Mr.  W.  A.  Blair  followed  by  reading  a  few  selec- 
tions from  the  poems  of  the  deceased.     This  part  of 

31 


the  memorial  service  had  a  marked  effect  upon  the 
audience,  many  being  deeply  moved  as  the  reading 
progressed. 

The  services  within  the  church  being  concluded  the 
procession  moved  to  the  front  of  the  sanctuary,  and 
led  by  the  church  band,  moved  up  Church  street  into 
Cedar  avenue.  Many  recalled  the  poem  which  Boner 
wrote  concerning  this  same  spot,  in  which  he  says : 


CEDAR  AVENUE,  LOOKING  TOWARD  THE  CHURCH 

8ALEM,   NORTH    CAROLINA 


Full  many  a  peaceful  place  I've  seen, 
But  the  most  restful  spot  I  know 
Is  one  where  thick  dark  cedars  grow 

In  an  old  graveyard  cool  and  green. 

The  way  to  the  sequestered  place 

Is  arched  with  boughs  of  that  sad  tree, 
And  there  the  trivial  step  of  glee 

Must  sober  to  a  pensive  pace. 

Gathered  around  the  open  grave  the  large  con- 
course of  friends  listened  to  the  burial  service  which 
was  read  by  Dr.  Clewell.  The  grave  is  near  the  main 
entrance,  just  south  of  the  gate.     On  the  casket  was  a 


beautiful  wreath  given  by  the  Typographical  Union 
of  Washington.  Representatives  of  the  press  of  our 
city  stood  near  the  grave,  and  when    Bishop   Rood- 

thaler  solemnly  uttered  the  words  : 

"Now  to  the  earth  let  these  remains  in  hope  com- 
mitted be," 

all  reverently  bowed  their  heads  as  the  casket  slowly 
descended  into  the  grave,  its  final  earthly  resting 
place. 

A  pure  white  marble  slab  was  placed  upon  the 
grave  as  soon  as  it  was  filled,  and  on  this  slab  is  the 
following  inscription,  the  last  line  being  written  of 
him  by  his  good  friend  Edmund  Clarence  Stedinan  : 

John  Henry  Boner, 

Born  in  Salem,  N.  C, 

January  31,  1845. 

Died  in  Washington,  D.  C, 

March  6,  1903. 

That  Gentlest  of  Minstrels  Who  Caught 
His  Music  from  the  Whispering  Pines. 


An  excellent  description  in  the  Raleigh  News  and 
Observer  (from  the  pen  of  Mr.  George  P.  Pell)  was  sup- 
plemented by  the  following  editorial. 

John  Henry  Boner. 

That  was  a  peculiarly  graceful  act  of  the  friends 
and  admirers  of  the  late  John  Henry  Boner,  in  taking 
from  the  simple  wish  of  a  bit  of  his  sweet  and  musical 
verse  the  inspiration  of  honoring  his  remains  by  laying 
them  in  the  old  church-yard  to  which  his  poet's  soul 
returned  again  and  again  as  a  homing  dove  circles 
around  its  well  loved  cot. 

John  Henry  Boner  was  a  man  whose  soul  so  shone 
through  what  he  wrote  that  the  words  had  about  them 
that  mystic  and  gentle  sympathy  that  won   for  the 

33 


writer  a  love  that  was,  apart  from  his  art,  almost  per- 
sonal with  those  who  came  under  the  spell  of  the 
simple  music  of  his  lines.  He  was  all  that  an  ideal 
poet  should  be — wandering  in  the  green  places  of 
nature  from  a  city  desk,  grave  almost  to  sadness  in 
his  mien  yet  buoyantly  hopeful,  wonderfully  tender, 
with  a  brave  and  chivalrous  heart,  a  seeing  eye  and 
a  pen  that  touched  on  homely  universal  chords  with 


MORAVIAN    GRAVEYARD 

MR.  BONER'S  GRAVE  IN  THE  FOREGROUND  ON  THE  RIGHT 


a  reverence  as  soft  and  as  soothing  as  the  cool  fingers 
of  a  woman's  love. 

He  loved  deeply  the  paths  and  the  shade  of  the 
green  cedars  where  he  has  been  laid  by  the  distin- 
guished men  whose  admiration  he  had  won.  It  is 
fitting  that  for  all  time  they  should  sigh  their  restful 
requiem  across  his  grave.  They  possibly  gave  him 
his  first  elusive  inspiration  to  the  art  that  he  followed 
with  such  devotion  and  which  he  served  with  so  much 


34 


honor.  It  was  beneath  them  he  wished  to  lie,  yet  in 
death  he  gave  up  the  hope  with  the  sweet  self-sacrifice 
without  which  he  could  not  have  been  the  poet  he 
was.  Yet  it  is  a  sad  thought  that  of  the  nun  who 
contributed  to  carry  out  his  humble  wish  of  burial 
only  one  was  from  the  South,  and  he  from  Virginia! 

There  is  a  lesson  in  this  that  should  be  better 
learned. 

We  should  not  fail  in  the  honors  due  the  souls 
among  us  with  the  gift  of  song,  nor  should  we  drive 
them  off  with  but  a  cold  regard.  John  Henry  Boner 
loved  the  South  and  North  Carolina.  It  is  a  bit  sad- 
dening to  think  that  the  hand  of  the  mother  should 
not  have  given  the  last  caress : 


On  one  of  the  last  days  in  December,  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Boner's  wrote  from  Salem :  "The  grave  has  been  nicely- 
tufted  and  the  stone  placed.  The  galax  and  palms  are 
still  green,  and  when  they  wither,  a  wreath  of  evergreen 
will  be  laid  in  their  place." 


35 


OME  tributes  in  verse. 


Like  Keats,  while  wasting  with  the  slow  disease 

That  never  loses  hope,  at  times  his  soul 
Would  try  its  wings,  and  fly  where  sunset  seas 

Round  fairy  headlands  rhythmically  roll. 
There,  where  the  clear,  white  light  of  truth  has  birth, 

The  light  he  loved,  he  met  Poe's  spirit  free, 
And  knew  it  well :  with  good  work  done  on  earth, 

The  mind  makes  strong  its  own  identity. 
Thus  went  and  came,  while  tethered  to  his  clay, 

Our  poet's  soul ;  but  now  he  bides  afar, 
And  will  return  not ;  for  his  wings  display, 

Where  truth  and  joy  and  beauty  ever  are, 
Beyond  the  sunset  and  the  dying  day, 

Beyond  the  moonrise  and  the  evening  star. 

— Henry  Abbey. 

From  the  Century  Magazine,  March,  1905. 

In  life's  hard  fight  this  poet  did  his  part : 

He  was  a  hero  of  the  mind  and  heart. 

Now  rests  his  body  'neath  his  own  loved  skies, 

And  from  his  grave  "  Courage !  "  his  spirit  cries. 

— Richard  Watson  Gilder. 

From    the  News  and    Observer   of    Raleigh,    North 
Carolina,  December  24,  1904. 

To-night  the  solemn  pines  do  seem  to  me 

To  voice  a  far  more  melancholy  moan  ; 

Theirs  is  the  stress  of  sorrow's  major  tone 
And  not  the  cadence  of  her  minor  key. 
It  is  their  souls'  unlanguaged  threnody, 

Mysterious,  wild,  across  the  darkness  blown, 

For  him,  whose  chords  were  mated  with  their  own, 
Now  laid  among  them  where  he  longed  to  be. 

Into  that  peaceful  city  of  the  dead, 

Sad  memory  leading  down  its  shadowy  way, 

I  pass  in  spirit  to-night  with  mournful  tread  : 

The  old  Moravian  bell  tolls  deep  and  clear, 
As  on  his  grave  with  reverent  hand  I  lay 

This  simple  wreath,  and  drop  this  silent  tear. 

— Henry  Jerome  Stockard. 

36 


From     the    Twin- City    Daily    Sentinel    of    Winston- 
Salem,   December  29,    1904. 


Sadly — tenderly — lay  him  down 

To  his  slumbrous,  dreamless  rest ; — 
Back  to  the  whispering  pines  that  he  loved, 

A  tired  child  to  his  mother's  breast. 
The  bending  cedars  are  stooping  near, 

To  enfold  him  in  sheltering  arms — 
Safe  at  last  in  the  shades  so  dear 

From  all  terrors  and  mortal  harms. 

He  caught  his  music  from  Israfil, 

High  chords  from  his  tuneful  lute  ; 
But,  alas !  the  singer  lies  pale  and  still, 

His  heart  strings  shattered  and  mute. 
He  touched  the  highest  heights,  as  well, 

Where  Genius  holds  her  court ; 
He  sounded  the  deepest  depth  of  hell, 

Where  angel  and  demon  sport. 

Alas  for  singer  !  Alas  for  lay  ! 

Called  hence  while  the  moon-tide  beam 
Just  touched  his  brow  with  its  awful  chrism, 

Then — vanished  in  fiery  sheen. 
Brought  back  to  the  colonnaded  pines — 

Back  to  his  own  loved  home ; 
Back  where  the  moon  in  her  glory  shines, 

On  the  mound  where  the  shadows  lie  prone. 

High  overhead  the  mocking  bird  sings, 
As  he  lists  to  yon  deep-toned  bell — 

Echoing — re-echoing,  still  it  rings 
The  poet's  funeral  knell. 

— E.  A.  Li 


3) 


FINANCIAL    Statement. 

I  have  the  honor  to  report  that  two  hundred  and 
thirty-six  dollars  ($236)  have  been  received  to  the  credit 
of  The  John  Henry  Boner  Memorial  up  to  date.  To 
this  fund  the  following  persons  have  contributed : 

Henry  Abbey  T.  L.  De  Vinne  Henry  Holt 

H.  M.  Alden  F.  S.  Dellenbaugh  Frank  Huntington 

Thomas  B.  Aldrich  I.  K.  Funk  R.  U.  Johnson 

S.  G.  W.  Benjamin  F.  H.  Giddings  C.  H.  Jones 

A.  E.  Bostwick  R.  W.  Gilder  C.  G.  Lee 

R.  R.   BOWKER  D.  C.  GlLMAN  JOHN  URI  LLOYD 

Henry  S.  Brooks      Homer  Greene         G.  L.  Raymond 
Andrew  Carnegie    F.  W.  Hackett         Clinton  Scollard 
J.  D.  Champlin         John  Hay  E.  C.  Stedman 

J.  Vance  Cheney      Wm.  J.  Holland      F.  H.  Stoddard 
Stephen  H.  Thayer 

Disbursements. 

The  following  disbursements  have  been  made  from 
the  above  amount: 

Printing  Circular,  -        -        -        -    $  5.00 

Undertaker's  services  and  casket  at  Washington,  to 

J.  William  Lee,       ------       40.00 

Correspondence  and  travel,  to  Dr.  Benjamin,  -         -       20.00 
Undertaker's   services  at  Winston -Salem,  to  A.   C. 

Vogel  &  Sons, 18.50 

Tombstone  at  Winston-Salem,  to  J.  A.  Bennett,        -       20.00 
Expenses  connected  with  Commemorative  Services  at 

Winston-Salem,  through  John  W.  Fries,    -         -       10.00 
To  Mrs.  Lottie  Boner,  wife  of  deceased,  for  traveling 

expenses  from  Georgia  to  attend  reinterment  at 

Winston-Salem,  N.  C, 25.00 

Copies  of  "  Boner's  Lyrics "  to  subscribers,  to  the 

Neale  Publishing  Company,  ...       31.68 

Memorial  book  to  subscribers  and  others,  -         -       52.50 

Expenses  for  wrapping  and  distribution  of  the  same,         8.75 
Treasurer's  expenses,      -         -         -         -         -         -         4.57 


Total,     $  2  36. 00 

JOHN  FRANKLIN  CROWELL, 
Treasurer,  John  Henry  Boner  Memorial. 

38 


